


Love Bites

by Klei



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 03:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5651437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klei/pseuds/Klei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred loved Ivan.  Ivan had once loved Alfred.  It was okay, though; Alfred would let Ivan take as long as he needed to remember just how much they loved one another, even if it meant keeping him chained up in the middle of nowhere for the rest of their natural lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bites

"Ivan?"

His call was greeted by the jingling of chains. Alfred allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The splintered wooden stairs creaked loudly as he raced to the basement. In his excitement to reach the bottom, he leaped over the final three.

"Ivan!" said Alfred again. He would have clasped his hands together, but that would have required dropping the dish and bottle of vodka. "You okay, babe? Sorry about the wait. I know I said I'd be back in an hour, but I ran into some, uh, difficulties. You know how it is."

A large, nude, and haggard-looking figure responded to his question with a hoarse groan, his head still flopped down on one of the many partially-torn pillows that surrounded him. He tugged against the chains loosely binding him to the wall, but there was no sense of determination in his actions. It was as though he wasn't even fully aware that he was bound.

"Oh, babe, you look awful! You must be starving!" said Alfred. Rather than place the dish within Ivan's reach, he set it down on the cement floor and pushed it over with a long stick that he kept against the wall. For as tired and weak as Ivan had come to appear, Alfred knew from experience just how quickly he could pin someone to the ground if they got too close. "Here, I brought you some venison! That's what you call deer meat, right? I'm, like, eighty percent sure. I know I'm not the greatest cook, but don't worry! I added that 'special sauce,' just the way you like it!"

Ivan initially disregarded the dish, but after a long moment of silence, he gingerly crawled forward. Alfred hadn't provided him with silverware, but he didn't seem to mind; without hesitation, he scooped the meat up with his bare hands and began to shovel it into his mouth.

"See? I told you it was still good! Just you wait, big guy. I'll get you to eat a hamburger, yet!" said Alfred.

He grabbed a bowl from the shelf nearby where it sat beside the sauce knife and set it down on the floor, taking care to keep out of Ivan's reach. Alfred had already prepared the drink in advance, so he poured the watery, red-tinted liquid into the bowl. It wasn't _real_ alcohol, of course, and certainly not vodka, but that had to be conserved for more important reasons than pleasure. Still, the sight of the bottle always seemed to cheer Ivan up a little.

Or perhaps that was just Alfred's wishful thinking.

Using the stick once more, he gently fished the plate back from Ivan, then pushed the water bowl over in its place. The moment he stuck his face in to drink, it splattered all over the floor.

"Aww, man, _again?_ Do you know how much of a pain it is to get you secured so I can clean that up?" said Alfred.

Ivan licked the bowl clean and groaned.

"Oh, you know I can't stay mad at you!" said Alfred, a smile spreading across his face. "It's been a few weeks, so you need a bath, anyway. Two birds with one stone, am I right?"

Once he'd retrieved the bowl, Alfred wished Ivan a good night and headed back upstairs. As usual, he locked the basement door securely behind him, then headed to the kitchen with the dirty dishes. They didn't look _that_ filthy, so rather than waste water washing them, he just wiped them both off with a rag and stuck them back in the pile.

Alfred glanced out the window. There were still little indents in the wall around it where boards had once been nailed, but those were no longer necessary. Not since the fence had been installed. At twenty feet and topped with barbed wire, there would be no uninvited guests coming around to bother them. If they tried, well, he still had a sizable stock of ammo. Be it his guns or his crossbow, no one was going to get between him and Ivan.

Exhausted, Alfred collapsed on the sofa. Well, the side that didn't have springs sticking out of the fabric, at least. When you lived alone in the middle of nowhere, you took what you could get, and a ratty old sofa full of holes was better than the floor.

"So," he said to nobody in particular, seeing as he had no one else to talk to. "Now what?"

A part of him wanted to go up to his bedroom and sleep, but he still had to do his perimeter check. At one point, he'd considered it a little paranoid, but the thought of someone breaking in and hurting Ivan was more than enough to get him out of the chair after only a few minutes of relaxation. Alfred retrieved his crossbow from the safe – makeshift bolts were a lot easier to put together than bullets – and opened the door with the caution of a deer poking its head out into a meadow. Not that he expected to see anyone, of course, but it was just a good habit to maintain.

Alfred skulked quietly around the inside of the fence. Rather than grass, most of the available yard space was being cycled through one crop or another. In the front were a couple of young fruit trees, though none of them would grow anything edible for at least another year or two. He hoped that their food-bearing days would arrive sooner rather than later; the less often he had to leave Ivan on his own to get them some good ol' vitamin C, the better.

The back was where most of the vegetables were grown, including peas, beans, lettuce, and even beets. One day, he hoped to have the resources to turn their potatoes into homemade french fries, but it would be some time before they were entirely self-sufficient.

Speaking of self-sufficiency, Alfred had brought home some solar panels for the roof just a few months prior, but hooking them up all alone had proven difficult. One thing led to another, and soon they'd all slid off and shattered on the ground. _That_ had been a bit of a bummer. Alfred stared longingly up at the roof. Next time he would get it right, for sure!

Alfred cautiously climbed the ladder to get to the roof, his head constantly swiveling around to take in his surroundings as his field of vision increased to include the other side of the fence. His crossbow remained strapped to his back, but he kept one hand ready to yank it off at a moment's notice.

Aside from the occasional squirrel, the surrounding area was quiet. On one side of the fence was an ominous-looking forest, and on the other was the overgrown driveway. Way out on the horizon, poking out over the treetops, the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky. Alfred scurried back down the ladder and headed back around to the front door. At last, he could get some sle-

_"Help!"_

Alfred froze where he stood, his hand on the doorknob. It had been small and faint, but he was pretty sure that he'd just heard...

"Someone _help!_ Please!"

A small part of Alfred wanted to brush it off as a trick. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had tried to deceive him to steal his belongings. Ignoring it was the _rational_ thing to do.

The rest of him, however, was simply incapable of resisting the call. Someone was in trouble, and he had to be their hero.

Alfred sprung into action. He'd already checked over the fence, so he knew it was safe to open the front gate. Hurried though he was, he made sure to secure it behind him – Ivan was still his first priority – before he ran after the source of the cry.

"Oh, God, _help!"_

They had a deep, male voice with a noticeable accent that sounded a little like Spanish, though Alfred wasn't worldly enough to be entirely certain. His cries for help alternated between the two languages.

Alfred rushed down the lengthy driveway and out into the old, crack-ridden residential street, his crossbow drawn and loaded. He had a really bad feeling about where the voice was coming from.

Sure enough, just to the side of the road, a dark-skinned man with a ponytail of dreadlocks was collapsed on the ground, his ankle trapped in a bear trap.

_Alfred's_ bear trap.

"Hold on!" said Alfred, hurrying to his side.

The man looked up from where he was stuck, appearing equal parts relieved and wary. His eyes remained locked on Alfred's crossbow.

"Y-you-" he stammered.

"I'll get you out of there in a second!" said Alfred. "I'm so sorry! I knew I should have put up warning signs, but no one ever comes out all this way!"

For his part, the stranger remained startlingly quiet as Alfred triggered the release switch on the trap. Even when the spikes were slowly removed from his leg, his only response was a lengthy hiss. He let out a string of what Alfred actually _did_ recognize as Spanish swear words, then carefully attempted to get to his feet.

"Oh, no, man, let me help you!" said Alfred, automatically swinging one of the man's arms over his shoulder.

"Haven't you done enough?" growled the man.

"I already said I'm sorry about the trap! Come on, I can get you cleaned up at my place. I've got bandages, and everything," said Alfred. It would really eat into his supplies, but he supposed he didn't have much of a choice.

"Oh, really? And how do I know you're not just some kind of a freaky cannibal?"

"I guess you don't, but that's gonna get super infected if it isn't cleaned. Those traps aren't exactly sterile," said Alfred. He assisted the man in getting back to his feet. "Come on, it's not far from here, and you can stay 'till you're better."

The man still seemed a little suspicious, but he couldn't exactly argue the point. Reluctantly, he allowed Alfred to assist him in hobbling back down the road.

"My name's Alfred, by the way," said Alfred. "See? Cannibals don't bother to introduce themselves!"

"Juan," said the stranger. "And I'm still not convinced."

Alfred huffed.

As they approached the gate, a nagging sensation was beginning to form in the back of Alfred's mind.

_Don't let him in. Ivan is more important. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan!_

No. It was fine. He just had to avoid letting him into the basement, that was all!

Of course, there was also the matter of where he was going to sleep, since Alfred wasn't even sure if he could be trusted. He'd seen people with worse injuries come at him in the past, and he would be helpless while he slept.

Alfred's thoughts were interrupted by Juan's impressed whistle when his home came into view.

"Nice fence," said Juan.

"It gets the job done," said Alfred. He helped Juan inside, then locked the gate once more.

"Are those fruit-bearing trees? Crops? Water collection barrels?" said Juan. "And to think that I didn't even realize anyone lived all the way out here! Apply for secession, and you'll be your own independent nation, for God's sake."

Alfred had never been one to turn down praise, even from a sudden and unwanted guest that he was only taking in due to moral obligation.

"Oh, well, I couldn't have done it without my partner!" said Alfred. It was equal parts sharing credit and a thinly-veiled threat. _'I don't live alone. Don't try anything,'_ was the hidden message.

"Two of you, huh?" said Juan through minimal pained moans. Annoying as it was for him to have stumbled into one of their traps, Alfred had to give him some credit for still being able to keep up a normal conversation. Unfortunately, that also made him worry about what else Juan was still capable of, despite his injuries.

"Well, he's not here right now, but he'll be back soon," said Alfred. "He went out to go pick up some more medical supplies."

Alfred sidled through the front door door, which Juan closed behind them with the arm that wasn't over his shoulders. A small gasp escaped him when sat down on the old sofa, taking pressure off of his injured leg, but Alfred was quick to run into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of pain-killers, bandages, and some alcohol.

"Nice deer," said Juan, staring into the fireplace where a mass of meat sat over some wood.

"Put your leg up on the coffee table," said Alfred. "Just not so hard that you break it. We've gone two years without cracking that glass, and I'm not about to lose it now."

Juan gingerly removed the boot from his injured foot and raised his leg to set it on the glass coffee table. Alfred peeled back his pants to access the wound. There were bleeding gashes where the spikes had been embedded into his leg, but it could have been worse.

"It's a good thing you didn't struggle too much. I don't think you'll need any stitches," said Alfred. "Do you think your leg is broken?"

Juan wiggled his toes experimentally. "It might be fractured, but it's hard to tell."

"Well, better stay off it, then," said Alfred. He uncorked the bottle of cheap alcohol and poured a little into a piece of cloth. "You need something to bite, there, bud? Not gonna lie, this is gonna suck."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've done this," said Juan. "I'll be fine."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, take those pills in the meantime."

Juan accepted the pain-killers and threw them down his throat. A part of Alfred felt a little bad that he hadn't brought a glass of water with him, but he only had two arms, and the leg took priority. He held down Juan's foot on the coffee table just to prevent reflexive jerking, then slowly touched the alcohol-soaked cloth to the wound to begin disinfecting it.

Once more, a stream of curses poured from Juan's mouth, but he shifted only minimally.

"Damn, man, you're taking this like a champ," said Alfred. "Ivan acts tough, but he always cries like a baby whenever I have to do this for him."

Granted, the pain made Alfred cry, too, but it wasn't technically a lie. He was just omitting the entire truth!

"I've had worse," said Juan through gritted teeth. His eyes were still watering, but he wiped the tears away with his sleeve.

Once the wound was clean, Alfred began to wrap it up with bandages. He hadn't always been so good at it, but with all the practice he'd gotten, he'd come to start wrapping injuries like a freaking doctor. The results were pretty professional-looking, if he did say so, himself.

"Ta-da! All better!" said Alfred.

Unfortunately, it still wasn't in walking condition, but at least he wouldn't be saddled with Juan for longer than a couple weeks. The longer he stayed, the more likely it was that he found and hurt Ivan. Alfred couldn't allow that to happen.

"Thanks," said Juan gratefully. "Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if there hadn't been a _combination lock_ to unlatch the trap."

Alfred smiled awkwardly. "Well, you know. Discourages thieves."

"Thieves would just cut the animal's leg off," said Juan. "And you _just_ said that no one ever came up here, so it seems like a complete waste of time."

Damn it. That was exactly what Ivan had told him when he'd first proposed the idea.

"Look, I don't always come up with good ideas," admitted Alfred. "I _am_ sorry, though! Come on, let me make it up to ya'. You hungry? Thirsty? The deer is still smoking over the fireplace, but I've still got some old jerky and half a carrot."

Juan licked his lips despite himself. "That'd be nice, actually. I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okie dokie! Jerky and water, comin' right up!" said Alfred.

He returned to the kitchen to retrieve what he'd offered. There were still several cans of other foods, true, but he preferred to keep those for the coming winter to ensure that he didn't have to leave Ivan alone for any longer than necessary.

The silverware was a little battered, but very much usable, and he set it down on the side of the coffee table that wasn't covered in blood from Juan's injury.

"Thank you," said Juan gratefully.

"Don't mention it!"

Despite his hunger, Juan took his time eating. Alfred knew that that was technically the best way to go about it – something about feeling more full? - but he couldn't imagine eating so slowly, himself. He was more of a 'get it to his stomach as fast as possible' kind of a guy. Arthur had always yelled at him for it, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Okay, let's see," said Alfred thoughtfully. "That sofa isn't really good enough to sleep on, but I've got some blankets and a pillow. We _might_ have an air mattress, but the pump broke, so it'll have to be manually inflated."

"The floor's fine," said Juan. "I've been sleeping on the ground for the past few weeks, anyway."

"Sheesh. That sucks," said Alfred. Knowing that he had an actual – if slightly old and lumpy – bed upstairs made him feel guilty. "You know what? I'm gonna go get started on inflating that air mattress. B-R-B, dude. You get some rest."

"Thank you," said Juan again, experimentally bending his knee to make sure that the bandages held. "I-"

"Just remember!" interrupted Alfred. "Whatever you do, don't open the basement door. Seriously."

Juan eyed him warily. "Wait, what? Why not?"

"Oh, you know," said Alfred, doing his best to come up with a good reason. "The, uh, it, err, draft! It could let in a draft!"

"From the _basement,"_ said Juan.

"Yep!"

"There weren't any windows or doors leading directly down there when we were outside," said Juan.

"It's moldy," said Alfred quickly. Yes! Smooth recovery. "Seriously. Just don't touch it."

Again, Juan looked concerned. "Are you _sure_ you aren't a cannibal?"

"If I were a cannibal, why would I waste alcohol and pills on you? Come on, man, don't be silly!" said Alfred. "I'm seriously just trying to look out for you! You wouldn't want any mold getting in that injury, would you?"

"Then why didn't you mention the mold in the first place?"

"I didn't want you to worry that it would spread!"

Juan looked skeptical, but didn't question it further.

"Well," said Alfred. "I'd better go get you that air mattress, huh?"

That day, Alfred didn't go to bed until he was one hundred percent certain that Juan was already asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When they awoke, time passed in much the same way as before; awkward, uncomfortable stranger-conversation between two people who hadn't properly talked with anyone in some time. A part of it was kind of nice; Ivan hadn't spoken to him in months, so having someone to talk to lifted his spirits a bit, even if they didn't exactly see eye to eye on everything.

He hadn't always agreed with Ivan, either, of course, but they had enough in common that their disagreements had been bearable. Mostly.

"So, that Ivan guy still isn't back, huh?" said Juan.

"The pharmacy is pretty far away, and we don't have a car," said Alfred.

"I see."

Eventually, Alfred managed to sneak away with a plate full of food under the guise of baiting some traps. Juan, of course, asked him why he needed a plate for animals, to which Alfred responded that he preferred to eat things with a sophisticated palate. It was complete bullshit, of course, but he'd rather have Juan thinking that he was crazy than thinking he was, well, _crazy_ crazy.

Alfred shut the basement door quietly behind him, and crept carefully down the steps. He couldn't afford to call Ivan's name for fear that Juan would hear, so he hoped the element of surprise would be enough to give him a fighting chance in the event that he'd slipped out of those chains.

"Ivan? Ivan, baby, I'm here," said Alfred softly. Ivan shifted slightly, but otherwise didn't respond. "It's okay, I brought you some food. Loo- oh!"

As he set the plate on the floor, Alfred realized that he'd forgotten the special sauce. It was a problem that he swiftly corrected; soon, the jerky and water were both made palatable.

"There you go, babe!" said Alfred. He pushed the plate and bowl over with a stick. Ivan swiftly devoured all that he'd provided, but he didn't say a word of thanks. "Looks like your bath might have to wait, big guy. I'm stuck taking care of this dude who waltzed right into one of my traps. Oops!"

Ivan curled back up against one of the pillows.

"Yeah, I know, I know. You told me so, right? I'll put up warning signs later. Just gotta make sure Juan doesn't find you, ya' know? I think he already suspects me of being a cannibal. Talk about paranoid."  
Ivan stared at him.

"Okay, okay, I know, I _do_ seem kind of suspicious," admitted Alfred. "But I'm trying to be a good host!"

Ivan continued to stare at him. Alfred followed his gaze back to his own arm, where an open cut still bled.

"Oh, don't worry about this," said Alfred. "It's nothing. Anyway, I have to get back to Juan. I'm sorry I couldn't eat breakfast with you, but I'll get you something really nice to make up for it. Oh! I know! I brought home a whole bag of sunflower seeds last week! I'll shell some for you as soon as I can, okay?"

Ivan flopped back down against the floor.

"I love you, too, babe. Sleep tight, and stop tugging on those chains! You might hurt yourself! Well, that, or you'll hurt me, and you don't want that, do you?"

Someday, Ivan would answer him again.

Alfred slipped back upstairs without too much of a hitch. He'd never been a particularly stealthy person, but if things continued to go well, he could have Juan stay over and recover for the next couple weeks, then leave none the wiser!

"Did you finish feeding the snobby squirrels?" asked Juan.

"Nah. They're a bit harder to catch than Juans," joked Alfred. "Was that too soon? That was probably too soon. Sorry."

Juan chuckled, despite himself. "Fair enough."

With no electricity, there wasn't a whole heck of a lot to do aside from talk, talk, and more talk. Juan was unable to help with the garden, due to his injury, but Alfred found himself so delighted to have a conversation partner again that he was more than happy to help him out to the porch just so they could continue to chatter while he tended to the crops.

His supply of weather-related banter was quickly exhausted, so Alfred eventually decided that it was time to take it to the next level.

"So," he said as he checked the leaves for parasites. "What brings you all the way out to the middle of nowhere, anyway?"

"I could ask the same of you," said Juan. "Why live all the way out here?"

"Less competition," said Alfred. "Less help if things go wrong, too, but we've been attacked by bandits about eight times too many. It sucks to live so far away from other people, but, I mean, I have Ivan to talk to, right?"

Juan nodded thoughtfully. "I was actually living in Fort Everblossom up until-"

_"Fort Everblossom?"_ said Alfred, eyes wide. "Do you know Matthew? Matthew Williams? Looks exactly like me, but less noticeable?"

"I _thought_ you looked familiar!" said Juan, looking shocked. "Are you that twin brother he talked about?"

Alfred dropped his watering can.

"Yes! How's he doing?" asked Alfred excitedly.

"Oh, uh, he'd doing well enough," said Juan. That wasn't a good sign. "He told me he was sure you were dead, though. What exactly happened between you two? He didn't like to talk about it much.

"I told him I would be fine," sighed Alfred. "Look, don't you start judging me, but I kinda-sorta got kicked out."

"That makes two of us," said Juan. "Got caught stealing ice cream, and that was that."

"Ice cream?" said Alfred.

"It was hot."

"Sounds reasonable to me," said Alfred. "Arthur always _was_ a stingy bastard. I can't believe he'd kick you out over a first offense, though."

"It, uh, it wasn't a first offense," admitted Juan. "And all six times were ice cream related. I, umm, I have a problem."

"I feel ya', bro. No judgment from me," said Alfred. He'd raided the ice cream freezer on numerous occasions, himself. Juan just seemed to lack his finesse. Finesse, and insider knowledge of the patrol schedule.

"So what about you?" said Juan. He leaned back in the porch chair. "You two were _Arthur's_ kids. I can't imagine he'd give you the boot over something tiny."

"Ivan was getting kicked out for murder," said Alfred. Juan raised an eyebrow. "Some sack of shit was trying to assault his sister, but no one believed him. I managed to talk them out of a death sentence, but they decided he was too violent to stay. So I falsely confessed to being an accomplice to go with him."

"Why?"

Hm. He hadn't really given it too much thought at the time. Alfred had always been impulsive like that. Still, after a moment of contemplation, he came up with a satisfactory response.

"Because Ivan may be a strong guy, but he's terrified of being alone," said Alfred.

"That's still a lot to do for a stranger."

"He wasn't a stranger," said Alfred. "More like a friend. Err, enemy. Frenemy. With benefits."

Juan paused. "Excuse me?"

"Well, he's my boyfriend now, so it's all good."

"I can see that it's complicated," said Juan at last. "Ivan, huh? So he's from..."

"Russia!" said Alfred, retrieving the watering can. "I know, right? He spent his whole childhood there. You should see the way he burns in the summer. Oh, oh! One time, he fell asleep outside, so I wrote my name on his back with sunscreen. He didn't notice for a week!"

"The summers here are nothing," said Juan. "I'm originally from Cuba, myself."

"Cuba?" said Alfred. "Oh, I know where that is! Maybe. Possibly. Not really. Sorry."

Juan sighed. "It's an island? Lots of archipelagos?"

"Oh! _That_ Cuba!" said Alfred.

A moment of silence passed between them.

"You still have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue," said Alfred.

The rest of the conversation was spent discussing Fort Everblossom. Alfred couldn't bring himself to regret leaving, but he _did_ miss all of his friends, and hearing that they were all still alive and well was a huge relief.

Lunch was a combination of veggies that wouldn't fit in the preservation jars and more leftover jerky. Despite his injury, Juan helped out as much as he was able without bleeding all over the place, such as by assisting Alfred in putting the smoked venison away into sealed containers that the bugs wouldn't be able to get at. The day seemed to pass more swiftly than usual, to the point that Alfred nearly forgot about his other, very important task for the day.

Juan only stared at him with a confused expression as he began breaking sunflower seeds out of their shells. The edible innards he tossed into one bowl, and the shells into another.

"Aren't you supposed to just pop those into your mouth and spit the shell out later?" said Juan.

"This is just how I like to do it," said Alfred, a little too quickly.

"Whatever you say," said Juan. Suddenly, his eyes moved zoned in on Alfred's hand. "Hold on, your hand is wrapped in bandages now. When did that happen?"

"Oh, this? Some of the jerky got stuck together, so I tried to cut it apart, and my hand slipped."

"I see..."

It took about an hour or so to shuck an entire bowl's worth of the things, and little pieces of shell had scattered all over the table since he'd begun. Still, it was worth it to think about how happy Ivan would be that he could just eat them all without a care in the world! Alfred hardly even minded that his thumbs and forefingers were red from squeezing the tiny shells until they cracked.

"Where are you taking those?" asked Juan, who was in the middle of changing his bandages.

"To bait the fancy birds," said Alfred, sneaking off to the cellar once more.

As long as Juan was around, it was impossible to prepare the special sauce _before_ he went down to the basement. It was an unfortunate situation, since the whole process had the potential to drive his poor Ivan into a frenzy to escape his binds, but it was the only way to keep the secret safe. To keep _Ivan_ safe.

"It's okay," said Alfred softly. He wanted a kiss, but if he got too close without the proper preparations, Ivan would surely kill him. "I'll keep you safe until you get better."

Ivan seemed ambivalent about his feelings towards the sunflower seeds, but ate them, anyway. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't like he could use them for anything else after he prepared them for Ivan, so it was good that he hadn't turned them down, especially after all the work he put into shelling them.

"I wish you'd wear your scarf again," mused Alfred, noting the long strip of cloth that still sat unused off to the side. "It always suited you."

Ivan collapsed onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. That wouldn't do. He needed to drink before he fell asleep. Alfred couldn't have him getting dehydrated.

"It's okay," said Alfred again.

He retrieved the empty bowl of sunflower seeds and replaced it with a bowl of liquid.

"I'll keep you safe until you remember how much you love me."

 

* * *

 

 

"Where are you going?" said Juan one day. Alfred's head jerked upwards, startled. He turned around slowly, trying to conceal the plate behind his back. Since when had Juan been well enough to walk?

"Oh, uh, you know. Basement," said Alfred. It wasn't exactly something he could deny; he'd already opened the door. He just hadn't realized that he'd been followed. Juan was pretty light on his feet for someone with a leg injury.

Juan limped forward. "Alfred, you're hiding something."

"Hiding something?" said Alfred quickly. Too quickly. "What makes you think that? That's so stupid."

"Then why do you bring food down to the basement every day?" demanded Juan, taking another step forward. "Why do you lie about using it to bait the animals? And don't you dare try to deny it! Do you think I'm stupid? That I can't hear you sneaking down there?"

Alfred's blood ran cold. He had to think up an excuse, and _fast._ "Th-there are animals downstairs!"

A jingling sound rang out from the basement, followed by a low moan. Juan stepped even closer.

"And where the hell is that 'Ivan' of yours?" said Juan.

"H-he, uh, I, well-"

_Wham!_

Juan's fist met Alfred's cheek, knocking him to the floor. While he remained dazed, Juan raced down the stairs. Alfred struggled to get a hold of himself, but for several seconds, he was too dizzy to tell up from down.

Several precious, _precious_ seconds.

"N-no!" said Alfred as he struggled to get back to his feet. It was too late. Juan was in the basement. Juan was going to hurt Ivan. He was going to-

Someone screamed, and Alfred raced down the stairs.

The lantern hanging from the ceiling to keep the room alight had begun to dim, but there were only two silhouettes in the basement, and Alfred could recognize Ivan's anywhere. He tackled the one that _wasn't_ his beloved to the ground, and wrapped his hands around his throat.

"Y-you," gasped Juan. "H-he-"

_"Don't you touch him,"_ said Alfred venomously. "Don't you _fucking touch him!"_

Juan kicked him off, and he rolled to the side. Unfortunately, that just so happened to be within Ivan's reach. Alfred yelped as Ivan launched himself forward to latch onto his leg, desperately pulling to drag him closer.

"Ivan! Ivan, babe, it's me!" said Alfred. It was no use. "Damn it! I'm sorry!"

Alfred slammed his foot against Ivan's hand and yanked himself free of his grip. He jerked forward again at the sensation of something grabbing him from behind, but further inspection seemed to show that it was only Juan, dragging him out of range of the danger.

Ivan stared at his bruised hand and groaned, prompting Alfred to spew a stream of guilty apologies.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Alfred, what the hell are you doing?" demanded Juan. "He's, he's..."

_"I know,"_ said Alfred. The corner of his eyes practically ached as tears poured forth for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "I know."

"Then _why?"_

Alfred looked at Juan, then back to Ivan, who was still tugging against his chains as though he could get out.

"Because I love him," said Alfred.

Juan continued to stare at Ivan with awe, but Ivan had resumed disregarding them in favor of staring blankly at the wall.

"Alfred-"

"I don't care if you don't think he's going to get better, and I don't care if I slip up and die. I can't lose him. I _can't._ I _love_ him. And I'll keep loving him, even like this," said Alfred. "Even now that he's..."

Juan limped closer to Ivan, taking care not to get too close. There was a massive, bite-shaped scar over his neck. It was a miracle that the injury hadn't torn into anything important.

Well, as miraculous as surviving just to become a zombie could be, anyway.

_"I messed up, Alfred."_

_"I-ivan, that's fake, right? Just make-up you found at the store, right?"_

_"Alfred..."_

_"It's not funny. Damn it, Ivan, it's not fucking funny!"_

_"This is no joke, Alfred."_

"He isn't rotting," said Juan, still in shock. "His body is still alive."

_"Sssssssh, hush, it's okay."_

_"NO! You can't die! You son of a bitch, you PROMISED this wouldn't happen!"_

_"It's fine, Alfred. You can go back to Fort Everblossom now! Arthur will let you back in. You know he will. You don't have to stay with me anymore."_

_"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I won't go back without you!"_

"If they're infected by a bite and survive it, they won't start to rot until the host body dies. That usually happens when they starve to death," said Alfred. "Walkers aren't interested in anything but humans, though, so I cover all of his food with my own blood to trick him into eating it. That way, his brain stays intact. Just, you know, under the parasite's control."

_"Don't leave me. Please."_

_"I'm so sorry."_

_"Why? Why is this happening?"_

_"Alfred..."_

Juan's eyes widened. "You're trying to keep him alive until they come up with a cure."

_"Lay with me. Lay with me one last time."_

_"But the parasite-"_

_"When were you bitten?_

_"...This morning."_

_"Then we still have time. So please..."_

Alfred nodded, but his response wasn't enough to satisfy Juan's curiosity.

"But what if that never happens?" said Juan. "What if they 'cure' it by just wiping out all of the walkers?"

_"Alfred, if I have to die, I don't want it to be like this. You have to bring me the gun."_

_"No."_

_"Alfred, please."_

"I won't rest until he's better," said Alfred.

"And if it's impossible?"

_"Bite me. Ivan, bite me now."_

_"What? No! What are you saying, all of a sudden?"_

_"Don't leave me alone. Please, Ivan! Take me with you!"_

_"No! I won't! Stop asking such terrible things!"_

_"I won't let you leave me like this!"_

Alfred frowned.

"Then I'll post a warning on the outside of the front door and lock us in," said Alfred.

"Wait, you don't mean..."

_"What are you doing?"_

_"You're mine. They can't take you. You're mine! I won't let you leave!"_

_"Alfred, this is crazy! You have to shoot me! If I turn, I'll just hurt you!"_

_"You're MINE!"_

"If I can't bring my Ivan back to me," said Alfred, "I'll just follow him, instead. Walkers won't hurt other walkers. We'll be together, _forever."_

_"It's okay, sweetie. I'll protect you."_

_"Alfreh... H-hah, k-kill m-me, p-please..."_

_"I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe. It's okay. You'll be fine. Sssssssh..."_

_"D-don't... N-not s-s-safe..."_

Alfred looked over Juan with sad, but critical eyes.

"And what are you gonna do then, Juan?" he asked dryly.

Juan took another look at Ivan.

"He's your boyfriend," said Juan at last. "If you're happy like this, it's none of my concern."

Alfred took a deep, relieved breath. It would have been awful if he'd had to kill Juan to protect Ivan. He'd already used up so many bandages on him. That, and murdering the first person he'd been able to have a civil conversation with in at least six months would have been a little depressing.

"I'm glad you understand," said Alfred. He took another look at Ivan. "I just wish I could tell Mattie that I'm still alive out here."

Juan looked thoughtful.

"If you wrote a letter in your handwriting, I might be able to bring it to him," said Juan.

"I couldn't ask you to go all that way just for me," said Alfred. "Besides, then they'll just interrogate you to find out where I am, and I can't have Arthur's goons coming in here and hurting Ivan. I'll contact them eventually, just not right now."

"Well, don't say I didn't offer," said Juan. He eyed Ivan again. "So, I guess this is it, huh?"

"You don't have to leave," said Alfred. "You already know about Ivan. You can stay as long as you want."

Juan grimaced.

"I'm not sure how comfortable I feel sleeping in a house with a zombie in the basement."

"It can't be worse than sleeping in a house that zombies could break into at any moment."

"Touche," said Juan. "I guess I could stay a little longer. At least until something better comes along."

"It won't."

"Probably not," admitted Juan. "It's hard to beat crops, water, and a fence. All that's missing is electricity."

Alfred's eyes lit up. "Actually, I've been meaning to put up some solar panels, but it's a bit hard to hook them up without any help."

Juan appeared thoughtful.

"If the freezer starts working, it might eventually be possible to make popsicles," added Alfred hopefully. Popsicles weren't ice cream, not _really,_ but milk products had become rather difficult to come by after the apocalypse. Cows weren't the most efficient use of space, though Alfred supposed a goat or two cold prove a little more practical.

"Don't act like you have to tempt me any further, I'm already in," said Juan dismissively. He continued to stare at Ivan, who had since curled up in the corner. "Hey, Alfred?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think he's suffering like that?"

Alfred's teeth clenched.

"The parasite is in the brain. Brains don't have nerves. They can't feel pain."

"I mean emotional suffering, Alfred. Do you think he's conscious in there?"

"Gosh, would you look at the lantern?" said Alfred out of nowhere. "The fire's practically out! Why don't we let Ivan get some rest, huh? He looks tired, don't you think?"

Juan nodded slowly. Together, they ascended up the stairs.

"Yeah."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, obvious twist was obvious, but it was a little oneshot idea that I just had to get off of my chest. Sue me. XD I'm not talented enough to handle decent ideas. That is, assuming this even is a decent idea. In hindsight, it's kind of stupid. Oh well. I went through all the trouble of writing it. Now you get to suffer through it, too.
> 
> As for why the third character was Cuba, it admittedly could have been anybody. Ended up talking to my friend, and we agreed that Cuba needed more love. So, here he is.


End file.
